


Secrets to Share

by spiderlilies



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-23 05:16:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6106075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderlilies/pseuds/spiderlilies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flint glanced back to see Silver trailing his fingers over the cover with a feather light touch. It was the same gesture Flint had made himself time and time again. </p>
<p>"Only those who can no longer return to the physical warmth of their lover require a memento so often."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I did it. I’ve got one chapter done out of a multi-chaptered Silverflint fanfic. Hawkbi-pierce was prompted on tumblr to write about Silver asking Flint who T.H. was, and I too loved the idea, which was the birth of this work. 
> 
> Canon divergent, post-season 2 finale. There will be angst but I aim to give them a happy ending.
> 
> Updates Mondays and Thursdays until it’s completed.

_Thunk, thunk._ The rhythmic sound of Silver's call to the daily happenings drew the attention of the Captain, who had just entered his cabin. With an airy lit to his voice, Silver read from the book he was holding like a schoolboy spreading gossip among his peers.

"James, my truest love, know no shame, T.H."

The icy fingers of a time long past gripped onto Flint's chest. He shouldn't have been surprised that the quartermaster happened upon that book. After all, the man had been stuck in this room for hours at a time on Howell's insistence that his stump needed proper healing, and Flint had offered his bookshelf as reading material since Silver was surprisingly adept at Spanish. Perhaps a part of him wanted it to be found, but the sheer disrespect from Silver irritated him.

"Pray tell, James," he continued the mocking intimations, "who is this mistress you have kept secreted away?"

Something of Flint's inner rage must have been showing, for Silver's sly grin sobered more quickly than usual.

He spoke in a normal tone when he continued, "I would have wagered on the Barlow woman myself. Clearly T.H. has proven me wrong. Are they on Nassau?"

Flint made way to his desk and gave no response to the question nor did he respond to the next few that followed. Silver finally gave up in a huff and less than gracefully flopped back down onto his window seat, which could be more accurately described as his bed considering how he slept there nightly.

"She's dead, isn't she?" Silver said then, low enough that Flint could ignore it if he so wished.

Something gave in him. Maybe it was simply because it was late, he was tired, there was little to no light left now and he was facing away from Silver leaving his face unreadable. He chose to acknowledge the question.

"Why would you assume that?" he asked, keeping his voice level.

"There was no dust on the shelf where this book was. That was what drew me to it in the first place. Only the front cover was well worn."

Flint glanced back to see Silver trailing his fingers over the cover with a feather light touch. It was the same gesture Flint had made himself time and time again.

"Only those who can no longer return to the physical warmth of their lover require a memento so often."

Silver spoke as if he understood, as if he felt the same pain, but Flint steeled himself against it. He had seen the quartermaster work his silver tongue on the crew, his words were always chosen for deception, there was no true empathy there.

"Put it away," Flint intended to say as an order, but it came out more like a solemn request.

The seat behind Flint creaked and Silver hopped over to the desk instead of the shelves. He sat the book down on top of the papers Flint had been writing on, which was positively infuriating. Silver’s days in the cabin had made him bolder. He had always been one of the few men to meet Flint’s gaze head on, but at times it was almost as if he had stopped seeing Flint as his captain altogether.

"I won't share the message with the men," Silver offered as if that were a kindness.

"I'd slit your throat before my name left your lips."

The little shit grinned through a wince from whatever pain his leg was still giving him and said, "As you wish, James."

Flint barely thought before he slid the chair across the floor and had a hand around Silver's throat. The other man gripped onto the lapels of Flint's coat as he was forced to fall back on the desk and another pained sound left him as Flint hit the healing wound. That was an accident, but Flint wasn't about to apologize. He didn't, however, find himself squeezing enough to even restrict Silver's airflow. He simply pressed him to the wood with a light hold, he could feel every hard swallow Silver made as his Adam's apple shifted in his throat. Still, his eyes lacked the fear Flint had grown accustomed to seeing.

And because the idiot just couldn't keep quiet for longer than a few breaths, he began with questions again. "You were in love too, weren't you? What happened?"

"What the fuck makes you think I'd tell you that?" Flint snarled, but lacked his usual punch.

He was angry, but the ghosts were crawling in his head again, and it was taking too much energy to deny the sorrow. His cabin had always been a place where he could seek refuge and let his duties as captain fall by the wayside. Now that he shared the space with Silver, it was apparent that remaining the steadfast captain could not be his permanent state. Perhaps that was why Silver had been pushing his luck as of late. Silver was seeing through his walls. The thought was an uncomfortable one.

"I have a good ear," was all Silver offered, and Flint scoffed, because usually Silver was much better at extracting information. That was quite possibly the poorest attempt he had ever given.

Flint gave a final shove and moved to stand straight, but instead was jerked back into place. Ah, yes, Silver was gripping his coat.

"What happened to the Barlow woman? She didn't return with you. Billy said you leveled that entire town."

"Let go."

Silver followed the order this time and Flint slumped back into his chair.

"What does it matter to you?"

Silver pushed himself up and rested back on his elbows. He was staring at the empty space where his leg should have been.

"It matters, Captain, because your decisions affect more than just you. I need to know that there's something motivating this madness besides grief. Or I will walk out there tomorrow and tell our crew that you are no longer acting for the benefit of this ship or for Nassau."

"You do know what happened to the other quartermasters who challenged me."

"Dammit, I want to be on your side. The others worked against you when the crew needed your direction, they provoked their own demise, but if you are on your own personal vendetta and getting our men killed, you know I am right to question your actions," Silver said imploringly as he scooted himself over the desk until he was perched right in front of Flint.

If he hadn’t noticed the tears swimming in the green of Flint’s eyes before, he certainly did now. Flint raised his head in defiance, with such an air that, even though Silver was looking down, it felt as if Flint were the one towering over him.

"They shot her. We were in the home of a man I once called my friend, seeking reconciliation, and they shot her because she saw their hypocrisy. Then do you know what they did? They displayed her open casket to the public so that she would be stoned. Those so called civilized men don’t want a civil end to piracy. They want to see a noose around the neck of every man in our crew and every other crew that sails under a nationless flag. They want blood. So that is what I gave them. Let them drown in their own fucking blood!"

Silver noticeably flinched at the biting words. His eyes flickered back and forth searching Flint’s own. They sat silently, blessedly longer than Flint had expected.

“They’ll declare war on Nassau over this.”

“Let them. Freedom is worth a war.”

Silver lowered his head and let out a heavy breath. Then he plastered on the cheeky smile he so frequently wore and gave a shrug as if to say he was conceding. “If the other captains put your head on a stake for this, don’t say you weren’t given fair warning.”

“They’ll need me more than ever now.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Silver said and slipped back off the table. His hand briefly clasped Flint’s shoulder before he continued on by.

Flint only looked back to the window seat once after that. By some sleight of hand, Silver had _Meditations_ in his lap again. He hadn’t seemed to have gotten passed the front page. Flint himself was holding a pen with drying ink and trying to decipher what he had written through watery vision. Not another word made its way onto the ledger.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I do believe I know who T.H. is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flint's mind drifts to a few dark times when he was suicidal/had a death wish. It's only a few paragraphs and not particularly heavy, in my opinion, but better safe to warn than sorry.

It was still in the middle of the night when Flint woke covered in sweat. Moonbeams were filtering in through the windows and the glow from an oil lamp was still present near the partition at the window seat. The dark brown curls were silhouetted by the light, but it was plainly Silver who was wide awake and quietly turning a page. At least he started actually reading, that was progress.

As if he could feel eyes on him, Silver looked up from the book. Flint stayed still, unsure of whether or not Silver could see that he was no longer sleeping.

“I do believe I know who T.H. is,” Silver said lowly, but those words sounded like thunder in a room with only the slosh of gentle waves as ambient sound.

It would be pointless and childish to feign sleep, so Flint rose from his bed and joined Silver. It wasn’t as if he’d be getting back to sleep again anytime soon.

“Do you now?” he asked mostly in disbelief. He found that his heart, however, believed Silver more than his mind did, because it was beating in rapid anxiety.

Silver moved to dog-ear the page he was on, but Flint stilled his hand before it could do any damage. Perhaps in the greatest show of understanding, Silver simply moved his hand away and pulled a string from the tassel of a nearby pillow to use as a bookmark. Then, he flipped back to the dedication on the front that had seemingly captivated him.

“T.H., Thomas. I must admit, the last initial is a mystery, but that would have hardly been the most intriguing one.”

The sound of the ocean had grown louder in his mind, and even though Flint wished to plan his words carefully, a thought wouldn’t stay long enough for him to formulate a sentence. How Silver had learned of that name, Flint hadn’t a clue. No one aboard the ship knew it. Anyone else who might have was dead and Flint doubted that Miranda would have spoken to Silver about such things while she was on the ship. He would never deny what he and Thomas shared, but Silver knowing the truth was also a terrifying thing.

Silver continued, as usual, without a response. “You were having a fitful night. That was one of two names you muttered. I don’t mean to be disrespectful when I say this, but as I said, my money would have been on--”

“The Barlow woman. Yes, you’ve said. Miranda was her name, and you would not have lost that bet.”

Silver’s brow furled at that, as if he were trying to fit all the information into place but the puzzle was disjointed. Flint was aware that his situation had been particularly unique, but he felt no need to give more fuel to Silver than necessary. Such knowledge in the wrong hands had cost Flint everything once, what Silver would do with it was yet to be seen. If Silver chose to go about this wrongly, well, Silver would soon be joining the growing list of men killed by Flint’s own hands.

“Then this one?” Silver pointed to the initials on the page. “I’m not wrong here, surely. You would have corrected me much sooner if I was.”

Silver had sounded curious, rather than disgusted or scheming, which was a good sign. Honestly, Flint didn’t want to harm Silver any more than he had already. Flint let one of his legs rest on the seat, in the place where Silver’s would have been. He let his head fall back on the wood behind him, closed his eyes, and said nothing.

“Figuring you out has been the hardest challenge I’ve faced,” Silver added with an annoyed huff.

Flint scoffed. “More so than being down one limb?”

“I’m not certain I can claim to have beaten that one yet, but I have spent more time on Captain Flint thus far.”

They fell into silence again. Flint had calmed himself, or maybe Silver’s lackluster reaction had calmed him. He knew Silver hadn’t ever lived a life where appearances were meant to be kept, but even on the streets sodomy wasn’t taken lightly. The words on the page that Silver kept returning to, that was something most would call loathsome. A sentence to the gallows in the worst of cases.

Silver was many things, but dense was not one of them. More than likely, he already knew the answer that Flint wasn’t giving aloud, which meant the quartermaster knew an uncomfortable amount about him. Certainly, he knew Flint more than any other person on this ship could claim to and though Flint still felt that Silver’s understanding had been put on, a part of him wished to believe that Silver was actually _trying_ to understand. Genuinely trying.

Flint sagged against the wall. It felt as if a bit of weight was being removed from his shoulders.

After Miranda was taken from him, Flint had lost the last person with whom he could confide in. He was alone, which was quickly becoming more terrifying than Silver knowing the truth. When alone, all of his thoughts became a graveyard of broken hopes and dreams. When alone, he remembered the face of every person he drove a sword through, or put a bullet in, and their stolen hopes and dreams.

The only way he had found to stop those thoughts was in the middle of the battle, when the rush of survival hit him stronger than the desire to follow Thomas and Miranda through death’s door. Even then, he often thought that maybe he would be the one with a bullet in the head or a sword through the gut this time. Instead, it always ended with another haunting face.

Silver had been correct in his assumption that grief was his prime motivator for bloodshed. Grief and a growing desire for the sea to open up and swallow him whole, dragging him into its cold, dark depths. Once he had nearly let it. Silver hadn’t. Silver had dragged him to the beach.

If just talking to Silver had lifted a bit of weight from all that, well, if he actually allowed Silver to be on his side, maybe Flint’s options would stop always being so bleak. Silver was an optimist after all. Like Thomas.

Suddenly, he felt so very tired.

Then, he felt a tap to his leg, as if Silver was somehow able to sense his thoughts and sought to drag him out of the water again.

“I won’t tell the men,” Silver repeated, guessing incorrectly as to what Flint was pensive about.

“Mmm. You value your life,” Flint responded.

The silence drew long. Flint felt himself begin to drift as sleep beckoned him when another tap was given to his leg. He cracked one eye to see Silver’s heel hovering over his thigh.

“At least confirm my suspicions. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”

“Christ, you’re reminding me why I never wanted a boy.”

Silver gave a stupid grin, “Are you calling me childish? Or are you denying your attraction to men?”

Flint merely grumbled and moved to stand, because this conversation was not one he wanted to have when Silver was being like this, but Silver placed a hand on Flint’s ankle stopping the sleepy motion.

Silver chuckled, in his damn childish way. “I swear I’m taking his seriously, but you must admit you left yourself wide open for that one.”

“I’m too tired to deal with you right now.”

“A perfect time for my questions then. I find tired men are much more likely to share their secrets.”

“Do you enjoy testing my patience?” Flint said in irritation, and this time stood up despite nearly pulling Silver off the ledge with him.

Silver’s requests of “wait” and insistence that he would cease his inquiries went unheard as Flint returned to his bed and settled in for what he hoped would be a more restful sleep than his previous attempt.

Letting Silver inside his head was decidedly a terrible idea. Flint could never be certain as to whether or not the man would find a way to use his knowledge against Flint. There was no grounds for trust between them. Even though Silver had saved him once. Even though Silver was saving him even now. Letting Silver inside his head was decidedly a terrible idea. He repeated that thought in his head and each time it sounded a little less certain. Until finally a thought came to him that said _you already have._

A moment later, he heard the squeak of the oil lamp’s dial and the orange glow of fire behind his eyelids shifted to a welcome darkness. No more phantoms visited his dreams that night. Instead, curious blue eyes, dark curls, a mischievous smile, and a hand sliding up his leg proved to be equally unsettling.

Flint desperately wished not to be alone.


	3. Chapter 3

The cabin was awash in the fiery red-orange of sunrise when Silver cracked opened his eyes. His gaze traveled first to the Captain’s bed, which, to his disappointment, was empty. Reading could only keep him occupied for so long, and he had no intentions of spending another half a day on bed-rest. He made to stand, but a jagged pain shot up his leg the moment he shifted his weight. He swallowed back a pained groan, and slammed his fist against the wood beside him. This was his life now. Constant, nearly intolerable pain.

Creaking hinges drew his attention to the door, and he quickly donned his carefree grin.

“Morning, Captain.”

Flint was as conversational as usual. He seemed to have a less welcoming look than the evening before, which for a moment caused Silver to fear that he had pushed too hard and was now locked away from any amiable behavior he might have enjoyed. To his utter shock, Flint came towards him and wordlessly held out a bowl of delicious smelling stew. With uncertainty, Silver took the steaming dish.

Silver was still the only cook on the ship, and with his leg he hadn’t been able to make his way to the kitchen for the better part of a week. Previously, he hadn’t questioned where the food Howell and sometimes Billy brought him had materialized from. Flint, lacking his usual coat, and wearing his sleeves rolled up to his elbows was suddenly the obvious answer.

“What?” Flint grumbled.

Silver shrugged and sipped a spoonful of the broth. “You are a very good cook.”

For a moment, Silver thought he earned a smile, but the captain rolled his eyes and went to his desk instead.

Doctor Howell came in a while later and chided Silver for not having changed his bandages the day before. The entire process of removing the old wrappings was more painful than it ought to have been. Howell said he was healing well, though the look he gave Flint said otherwise. The two shared a very whispered conversation near the door before Howell took his leave, which did nothing to ease Silver’s worry. Flint gave him an indecipherable look, before he too left.

Silver spent the next few minutes debating whether or not he wanted to look at what was left of his leg himself. Though, considering he knew nothing of the art of medicine nor was he particularly flexible, it would have been pointless to try.

Flint shockingly returned with a bowl of water, a towel, and the prosthesis that Silver had been measured for not long ago. That alone was enough to make the pain a little duller.

“If you were worried less about getting inside my head and more about your own well-being, this would be easier for all of us,” Flint gave Silver his second chiding of the day. “Where are the bandages?”

Silver nodded to the trunk Flint had let him use to store an extra set of clothing and personal belongings, of which Silver had none.

Flint set the bowl down next to Silver, handed him the towel, and then tossed the roll of bandages at his head. A fumble from Silver nearly had them all landing in the water, but he grinned brightly at having caught them centimeters above the bowl.

“Here I thought you were going to play doctor for me,” Silver quipped.

That earned him another eye roll.

“If you wish not to be treated like a child, then stop acting like one,” Flint retorted with no actual spite.

Silver tenderly cleaned the wound as he had been shown how to do. The pain was present, but the sting of the salt quickly gave way to the soothing warmth of the water. Between grunts of pain and the sigh of relief, he earned a “quiet down” from Flint, and it took all he had not to exaggerate the next sound that was rung out of him. The cool air felt nice on his skin as well, and he had worked up a sweat from his efforts as far as they had gotten him. The bandages could wait.

“Last night, I apologize for not having treated the subject as delicately as I should have. There is quite obviously still a wound there,” Silver began, hoping to strike a conversation again. In his chair, Flint didn’t even pause his scrawling on the pages. “It’s not all that rare you know? I’ve been on quite a number of ships in my lifetime and on long voyages I’ve known some men to take another man. Better than fucking the milk goat at any rate,” he mentally cringed as his mouth got away from him. “Not that convenience was all there was between this man and you.”

“You should stop talking,” Flint warned.

Then, because Silver had somehow come to court danger, and because the curiosity was more likely to kill him at this point, he pressed on. “I was on a ship once that had a matelotage. That’s when two men--”

“I know what a matelotage is,” Flint frustratedly shot back and placed down his pen more loudly than necessary. He got up then and strode towards Silver.

Silver anticipated feeling fingers around his throat again, but Flint continued to be unpredictable. He grabbed Silver’s hand holding it palm up, for a moment Silver was stalk still in sheer surprise, then the bandages were placed in his hand.

“Busy yourself with your own problems before you bother with mine.”

To prevent himself from further leaving the impression of being childish, Silver decided to continue braving the pain without protest. Before Flint left the cabin for the day, he hesitated at the door and gave a lingering look back towards Silver, who cocked his head to the side and waited for whatever the captain had to say. The last thing he expected was the nearly whispered, “Thank you,” and he certainly didn’t have time to process the words before Flint closed the door behind him.

Later, Silver managed to get his stump into the boot, which meant the swelling had gone down during the week. He even got to walk around outside of the cabin for a short while before Flint practically herded him back onto the room. “You look like you’re about to faint,” Flint had insisted. Really, Silver didn’t have much strength in him to protest because he was also feeling lightheaded. Just walking on two legs again, though, that made him feel like he could be useful again.

The rest of his day was spent mostly in boredom. The gratitude Flint left him with in the morning still resonated in his mind. _Thank you._ He spent some time with _Meditations_ and stole an empty sheet of paper so that he could write a bit of his own ponderings. Mostly which revolved around trying to connect the bits of Captain Flint’s story he had gathered. When the sun began its decline once again, Silver was acutely aware of the fact that this had become the part of the day that he looked forward to the most. Any minute now, Flint would come back to his cabin, shed his coat, and sit at his desk. Then, Silver could almost physically see the captain relax.

At first, it had bothered him that Flint seemed to treat his presence as a mere addition to the furniture of the room. Hardly sparing a second glance unless he wished to address Silver directly. It wasn’t until a few days into the treatment that Silver realized Flint simply preferred listening rather than talking. Amiable silence was the state Flint was most comfortable in. Nearly the opposite of Silver’s own opinion. So Silver was the one to speak first every time Flint returned, as a reminder that he was there, and perhaps just so those fierce green eyes would fix on him for a fraction of a moment in greeting.

The door opened.

“Nothing has such power to broaden the mind as the ability to investigate systematically and truly all that comes under thy observation in life,” Silver read aloud and then closed the book with a snap. “I believe your own literature is in quite accordance with my views.”

Then there was the glance. Silver had never known another man that could command so much with just a look. Crew members of the ships they took would recoil in fear from the gaze. Wherever he set his sights, within a week his goal would be within reach. You could get drunk on power by merely standing beside him.

Flint draped his coat over the back of the chair and took his throne. He wrote for some time, then, as if there had never been a gap in their conversation, he said, “If you think using that book to gain points in your favor will get me to spill my guts, you’re mistaken.”

“It was worth a try.”

Silver watched Flint write. He watched the day slip from his shoulders as night fell. Flint was always more comfortable in the dark. How this man held this book so dear to him, while hardly following a single of its principles was hard to tell, though Silver had no intentions of bringing up that particular point.

“Thomas must have been a good man,” he chose to say instead.

This was the right thing to say. Flint looked over his shoulder as if he were waiting for Silver’s next words. Silver himself was waiting for the words to come to him. Too often his quick tongue seemed to fail him in this man’s presence.

“Much better than either of us.”

The most thrilling moment was always when the pen was put away. Flint would listen to him then. Entirely.

“Was the book a gift to instill the traits of a good man within you?”

“I don’t know.”

Silver hummed long and thoughtfully. “You should read it again. To remember the lessons.”

“I can’t,” Flint answered. He sounded so small in the moment. “I’m not that man anymore.”

Something shifted in Silver in that moment. He couldn’t see Flint’s face anymore, but the despair weighed down the air around them. Silver could feel that this was a loss just as profound as the loss of both Miranda and Thomas had been. At some point, Flint felt he had lost himself.

Much like the last time Silver broached the matter, he was drawn to by Flint’s side. So he perched on the edge of the desk and looked out the window at the rosy sky and purple sea rather than at the man who was barely holding it together.

“I’ve told you before, I don’t care what labels anyone else affixes to you. Those weren’t empty words. Good man. Bad man. Monster. Sodomite. Captain. I don’t care. My perception of you is all I need, but you care entirely too much, James. That, I think, is what this book was meant to tell you,” Silver sighed deeply. It was hard to imagine how much Flint struggled with when he always had such an impermeable exterior built up. Now, Silver knew he could see beyond those walls, but somehow it was painful to look.

A shaky breath left Flint as he opened a drawer and pulled out two mugs and a bottle of rum.

“I find men are looser with their secrets when a little drink is in them,” Silver added with a tentative smile and took a nice long gulp from his cup. With any luck, it would also help to ease his own pain.

“You do know there is chair you can sit on, yes?”

Silver gave a half shrug and wistfully smiled into his next sip. He liked it here, on this side of the desk. There was a certain pride he held in being able to sit on the window seat or right here beside Flint and knowing anyone who came into the cabin would see that they were on the same side now. Partners even.

Silver related a couple tales of his thefts that he only got away with by the skin of his teeth. Flint listened, though his comments were usually two or three words at the most. He seemed lighter in spirits by the time the drink had begun to warm Silver. But when there was a lull in the storytelling, and the clouds parted to let the light of the moon brighten the cabin, Silver could see that Flint was staring into his mug thoughtfully, but melancholic. Silver remained quiet then, choosing not to begin another tale of exaggerated truths.

“He was her husband,” Flint said at last.

Silver waited expectantly, because that cleared up absolutely nothing, but that seemed to be all Flint was planning to supply without it being wrung out of him. Silver furrowed his brow and tried to put those words into place in Captain Flint’s history. When it hit him, he was glad it was nearly pitch black again because his surprise would have been evident.

“Thomas and Miranda were partners?”

“Yes.”

“So then it was an affair?”

“That was the story the public received.”

“The public? England. There were stories that the Barlow woman, sorry, Miranda, that she came with you from England.”

Flint gave no reaction. At this point, Silver had simply began to assume that if Flint didn’t correct him as being wrong, then it must have meant he was right.

“So, then, if the public was told that story, what is your truth?”

The moon returned. Flint was staring straight at him, his eyes slightly glazed over from the alcohol, but still piercing enough for Silver to feel pinned in place. Perhaps Flint was gauging whether or not to answer. Silver would have prayed to any god that was listening at that moment to just let the words come. He wanted to know what had been done to create this man. He wanted to know where the unbridled rage came from. To know where the despair had begun. To know what drove him so passionately towards such lofty goals. And Silver was being driven by some madness to know _him_.

Silver held his breath in waiting.

“I came to Thomas and Miranda already a skeptical man with little hopes for the future of Nassau. Thomas was of an opposite mind, he believed in all the good the world had to offer and that even pirates were men worth trying to save. Before them, I had never believed in a thing. My life had consisted of going through the motions like it was all one great grey haze. I had made a name for myself in the Navy, yes, but even those accomplishments meant little to me. I was still always following orders and never having my own mind. They opened up my eyes, brought color to my world in a great many ways. They made me _believe_. Soon, we shared a common goal and then we shared a great deal more. I cared deeply for them both and they returned the sentiment. For a while, I forgot how cruel and unforgiving the world actually was. London, especially, can be a very dangerous place to love differently. We weren’t nearly as cautious as we should have been.”

It read like a tragedy, Silver thought suddenly. A brief sanctuary of happiness before there is love lost and nations destroyed. There were novels on the shelves in this very room that could be summed up in such a way.

Flint continued, his voice heavy with regret, “But that wasn’t the catalyst. We were caught up in a game of politics and our relations were simply the most convenient way of destroying us. Tearing us apart would tear apart our plans for Nassau, our dreams.”

Silver's own throat grew taut as Flint's voice began to shake. It wasn't the anger Silver had grown accustomed to, it was a sound of sheer defeat, it sounded wrong. Silver couldn't fathom what was like to lose one person who loved you deeply, let alone two, but he could feel a fraction of the pain himself from simply the story, which meant Flint's pain must have been unbearable. Silver let his leg rest against Flint's in an attempt at somehow giving comfort that he didn't know how to give.

“The scandal was created and forced you and she to flee. What of Thomas?” he had to ask, even if the answer was plain. He wasn’t here. Flint was alone now.

“He didn’t get the chance to. He secured our passage to Nassau, but t-they had him. His own father locked him away for madness and drove him to his end.”

Flint refilled his cup and downed it in nearly the same motion. Then, he fumbled for a match to light the lantern on his desk, but Silver reached out and stilled his hand before the match touched the wick. In the flickering glow, Silver found Flint’s eyes trained on him once again. They were somber from memories but they were also curious, as if Flint was trying to work out Silver’s motives. It felt like the man could look right through him if he willed it and that made Silver’s heart jump in something akin to terror. He brought Flint’s hand with the match to his own mouth and blew out the flame before it singed his captain’s fingers and before Flint’s gaze could penetrate any deeper.

“I find men are much more likely to share secrets in the dark,” Silver said in a whisper, like something would be broken if he spoke any louder.

In the inky blackness, Silver relaxed, glad to not be able to see Flint for a change, but in the dark, other senses compensated for the lack of sight. The sound of Flint’s chair being scooted over the wood floor drew his attention first. Then, just as suddenly, Silver felt himself being pulled from the desk at the same moment that he realized his hand hadn’t left Flint’s yet. Flint's fingers were wrapped around his, not quite interlaced, but nearly. As Flint continued pulling him, Silver was forced to grab onto Flint's shoulder to keep from tumbling. There was a moment where he was quite literally blindly following Flint, but then it struck him like a gale that the bed was in this direction. Then, he couldn't move. He imagined his pulse could be felt under Flint’s fingers as it began fluttering wildly.

Silver wrenched his hand away and gripped it to his chest in panic. Then, in some cruel act from nature, the clouds thinned and again their expressions were plain to each other. Silver knew what his was. It wasn’t just akin to terror anymore, he felt the terror through and through and without a doubt that was what his face showed. Flint’s though. Flint’s expression was pained, and so very lost. His hand was still outstretched where Silver had pulled back like the moment had frozen him. Then, he pulled it into a fist and shadows covered his eyes.

“I need some fucking sleep,” Flint said emotionlessly and took the last few steps to the bed, alone, and collapsed there like a lead weight. Dead to the world.

Silver hovered in place for a moment before losing his balance and collapsing to the floor. The pain it should have caused his leg didn’t even register. Too much was being felt elsewhere. He stayed there, not moving for what may have been minutes or may have been hours. In the middle of the ocean, on a ship, in a single room, feet away, and Silver had never felt so much distance between him and another person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray for longer a chapter! 
> 
> By the way, I did not know what a matelotage was. I saw people mention it on Silverflint posts every once and a while, so I looked it up, and now I'm fascinated by gay marriages occurring on pirate ships.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days were tense. That was putting it lightly. Flint was gone every morning before Silver woke. Billy had been the one to tell Silver that he was back on cooking duty. So Silver spent time below deck, where Flint rarely was. Even when he was up top, somehow they were always on opposite ends of the ship and they never met eyes once. The men gave them a wide berth as well, as if they could sense the unease. After evening meal, Silver would return to the cabin. Flint wouldn’t. He wouldn’t return until after the sun had long been set. Silver no longer said anything in greeting when Flint entered either, which meant Flint didn’t look his way, though it still felt like they were keenly aware of one another’s presence. Then, after the routine log, Flint would retire to bed and not a word would be spoken between them.

This left Silver with entirely too much time in his own head. Though he did get to converse with the crew more often now that he was on his feet again, the conversations never held the same weight those with Flint did. And half the men were beginning to question what he had done to earn the Captain’s ire. Some of them resorted to teasing, which occasionally hit much closer to the truth than Silver was able to handle.

The truth. That was what Silver kept trying to get his head around. He knew, for once, very clearly what Flint had been thinking. Flint had thought Silver was propositioning him. And as many times as Silver replayed that night, he had to admit that was a logical assumption, probably even more so through the haze of alcohol. He also knew that Flint laid himself bare emotionally and while filled with grief, longing, and loneliness, he had been willing to take Silver’s unintended offer. The look in his eyes when Silver pulled away, that was hard to shake. Silver feared that Flint assumed the rejection was due to their both being men, which, surprisingly, was the least of Silver’s concerns.

Silver knew he was attracted to Flint, in the way a sailor is attracted to the calls of a siren. Intrigued by the danger and beauty all at once. They had been circling each other for quite some time. That was another truth. Every time they were closer and closer. It had been a thrilling game for Silver, though he had assumed that even if he were to get into Flint’s head anything further would be left to his fantasies alone.

Finding out about T.H.—that had changed something. It meant that the quick, tension releasing fuck Silver had been imagining was not only a possibility, but it had the possibility of being something more. That was something Silver had never considered before. And he didn’t just mean with Flint. He had never wanted anything beyond sex from anyone. Mutual satisfaction was where he drew the line. Hell, before this crew he had never given a damn about anyone else. Now, here he was, a man that had given up one leg to remain loyal to these people and a man with a heart that was aching for more than a drunken night next to the ship’s captain.

He would have taken that night. Still would if it was offered again. But in the moment, the realization that such a coupling would mean more to him, and that he wanted it to mean more to Flint, had just struck him. That was what had been terrifying. He had withdrew his hand because he had felt his heart beating out of his chest at the weight of this unfamiliar desire.

Now that he knew all this, Silver was sitting on his hands not knowing what to do about it. Flint carried such wounds from loss that Silver wasn’t even certain that Flint would ever open his heart again. There was also the matter of Thomas’s words that were now beginning to haunt Silver. “Know no shame.” Silver prided himself in being quite shameless. Those words had been for Flint though, which meant there had been shame in his love at some point. Flint also still very much cared about the opinions of others. Silver had realized that more than once. So if Flint still carried shame and such resentment of himself, Silver could not imagine what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of such a painful love...if that was what this could be.

Thomas had been a good man. Silver was not. Silver was selfish and greedy and prideful. He was most certainly not a secret to be shared in the dark. It would never be enough.

Dealing in hypotheticals, however, was quite pointless. That was why on this night, Silver planned to confront Flint in some way or another. At the very least he intended to lighten the perceived rejection and retain, at the least, some friendship between them. Of course, things could never go smoothly or predictably where Flint was concerned. It was well past midnight and still Flint had yet to return.

Determined that his resolve wouldn’t be broken simply because Flint decided now was the time for brooding, Silver strapped on his leg and headed out onto the deck. He tried to be as quiet as possible, a near impossibility now, but he didn’t wish to rouse any of the men who were asleep below. It took him hardly any searching at all before he saw Flint resting at the bow.

Silver paused, struck by the scene before him. The sky beyond Flint’s leisurely stance was illuminated by an innumerable amount of stars. The night sky had always been a fascination for Silver, but on this particular night, in the middle of the calm ocean, it seemed like the vast expanse above was mirrored below. Moments such as this made it hard to separate the man from the legend. Framed amongst the heavens, Flint seemed god-like. An unapproachable force that you could call upon until your voice was raw, but one that would never answer.

Silver gathered up the courage, that was threatening to leave him, and walked up to the railing. Despite the unstealthy approach, Flint didn’t look his way.

“Hello,” was Silver’s brilliant greeting. This was going swimmingly. He leaned against the edge a few feet from Flint and gazed down into the water that parted for them. The salty ocean air settled deep in his lungs as he took a calming breath. His stomach was churning.

“It’s late,” Flint replied.

It had been only a few days, but Silver had missed hearing Flint speak to him, even if Flint seemed less than pleased to have Silver interrupting his solitary moment.

“Precisely why I’m here. You didn’t come back…” He trailed off. On the tip of his tongue was ‘home’, ‘to bed’, ‘to me’, and none of them were appropriate in the least. “I meant to have a word with you.”

“Then have it.”

Flint wasn’t budging an inch. The walls were firmly in place again. That hurt more than Silver had anticipated.

“Should I wait until you’ve stopped being so childish about this?” Silver echoed Flint’s quips. Finally, he got a glare but no retort. Silver sighed. This shouldn’t be so hard. Talking was supposed to be easy for him. It was the one thing he was still useful for. His head hurt, which made gathering his thoughts all the more difficult, and being under Flint’s scrutiny did nothing to help. “Thank you. For telling me what you did.”

Flint look at him in such a way that Silver felt they had reverted back to being strangers. Like Flint didn’t trust his words at all anymore. Physical pain came with that feeling, though it could have just been his leg. He couldn’t always tell the difference anymore.

“Did you satisfy your curiosity?” Flint asked with words dipped in bitterness.

“Not even a little.”

Flint looked away. That hurt too. Everything hurt.

All he needed to do was convey to Flint that they had had a misunderstanding. That he hadn’t meant to hurt him, that he was sorry for causing Flint more pain, but he was also not able to be a tool for Flint to use as he imagined the visage someone he loved. Silver needed Flint to see him. Admitting to any of that, however, felt like giving Flint all the cards. Silver couldn’t bare himself in the way Flint had.

“Why are you here?”

That question was an easy one. Silver had worked the answer out before he even came onto the deck.

“I’m here because I don’t want the divide that has been between us these last few days to continue. You can’t possibly want us to remain this way, can you?”

“Go back to bed, Silver.”

“But—”

“Now!” The word was shouted. Sharp. Curt. An order.

Silver flinched in surprise and took a step back. That tone hadn’t been directed his way in some time. A sudden thought came to Silver that this was it. This was the end before anything had the chance to begin. He’d never get back into Flint’s mind. He would be left alone with these terrifying feelings that he didn’t know how to deal with at all, and this distance between them would never shrink. His world was spinning out of control, everything was tilting the wrong way.

“Silver?”

He heard Flint say, but the words sounded far away, and for some reason the voice sounded worried.

“John!”

Then, the wood of the deck seemed to reach for him and there was a moment of intense pain before blackness swept him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be another chapter out later today! I've been feeling a lot of inspiration lately, and I didn't want to make you guys go too much longer without any resolution.
> 
> Also, I wanted to give a big thank you to everyone who has left comments. Finishing fics is a struggle for me, but you guys have kept me going. Thank you~!


	5. Chapter 5

Flint sat on the edge of his bed next to Silver, who was still feverish, and placed a cool towel on his forehead. Two nights ago, Silver had collapsed on on the deck, scaring Flint half to death and causing him to wake up half the crew with his shouts for Howell. Luckily, the fever wasn’t due to anything being seriously awry with the healing of Silver’s leg, which had been Flint’s first fear. Howell had suggested that the injury had weakened Silver and made him more susceptible to illness, then a few hours later two men were vomiting over the side of the ship and undercooked crabs were to blame.

While most of the men were only affected by vomiting for a few hours, Silver had drifted in and out of lucidity for the better part of these two days. There was nothing to do but to hope that Silver pulled out of it on his own. It was nerve wracking.

One conversation they had had kept coming to Flint’s mind. Silver had said caring was an awful thing. It was said lightly, as Silver often made light of situations even though there was nothing at all amusing about them. Caring was an awful thing. A part of Flint felt those words down to his core. So much pain had come to his life out of caring. On some days, the old wound left by Thomas ached as if it were just inflicted. And the fresh wound created by Miranda’s murder made it hard to sleep. Still, even though those wounds often brought him to tears, some nights he would dream of days in London with the Hamiltons' smiling faces, where everything was light and he felt like he had found home. Those happy dreams had become more frequent in the days following his reluctant confession to Silver. The wounds ached a little less.

This led Flint to believing their wounds weren’t all that different. The wounds to his heart and the wound to Silver’s leg. Both were unwillingly inflicted upon them, something was stolen from them, and they were trying to be good men when the injustice was done. Flint had ignored his wound for a very long time and left it to fester. Silver would have done the same had Flint not forced him to air it out and clean the wound for proper healing. Though Silver hadn’t known Flint’s wounds, the man had done the same for him by forcing him to speak of the past. It had helped.

Now, caring was causing an entirely different turmoil within Flint. Where he had always known he had a mild interest in the quick witted man he was now tending to, the night where he had nearly taken Silver to bed surprised even Flint. He wasn’t quite so inebriated that he had lost his reason. The reason was replaced by something that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Hope. It was hope that had caused his lapse in judgement. Some hope against hope that all Silver’s prodding and digging had been about more than just worming his way into Flint’s head. That maybe Silver actually cared. Flint had been a lonely fool. Worse still, the fact that he wanted Silver to care meant that he himself had hoped for more than just one night in the dark. Mild interest had grown into attraction. Then into longing. And it had snuck up on Flint like no other attack would have. Worst of all, if he could go back to before he indulged Silver’s questions at all, he would still tell him. He would still take this pain from longing if it meant finally laying to rest his pain from loss.

“Were you convinced to play doctor for me after all?” Flint heard Silver’s voice and felt a hand rest over his, which was still on the towel he had placed on Silver’s forehead. He pulled his hand away immediately.

Relief washed over Flint after that. Silver had been looking a bit better throughout the day, less sweat, and more color to his cheeks. Hearing him speak clearly and flirtatiously was medication for any worries Flint had left. The fever must have been letting up, which meant Silver would pull through. Flint wouldn't lose him.

“You’ve slept a few days away.”

“Have I? What happened? I feel like a horse ran over me,” Silver sat up slightly which was also more movement than he’d made lately. 

“After busting your nose when you fell face first onto the deck, Howell told me you had poisoned our men with your poor cooking skills. I swear, I let you back into the kitchen for a few days and you nearly kill yourself,” Flint scolded half-heartedly and handed Silver a cup of water. Fluid intake was important still.

Silver's cool fingers unnecessarily slid over the back of Flint's as he used two hands to take the cup. They had been in nearly this same situation once, right after Charles Town, but now every motion seemed more meaningful and, while Flint had barely given a second thought to Silver's touches before, now they were all he could focus on. Longing could very well kill him all the same.

“You could teach me, you know.”

"Hm?

"To cook."

“Perhaps,” Flint answered, making no commitment and pulling his hand away. He should have just hired a new cook weeks ago.

Silver took a drink and looked around for a moment. Surveying just where he was.

“I’m naked,” he stated plainly. “In your bed.”

“You needed to be cooled, your leg had to be tended to, and you pissed yourself last night. You have no dignity that needed to be spared in any case,” Flint said, despite knowing it sounded like a flustered response. He hadn’t even thought of having Silver take his bed as odd until this moment. It was a necessity.

Silver chuckled and fell back on the pillow. He ran a hand over the sheet covering him. “This was not how I expected to end up in this position.”

Flint raised an eyebrow. There were assumptions running around in his head, but he had previously read Silver all wrong. His words were deceptive as always. Flint intended to make no more false interpretations and would wait until Silver spoke blatantly. Until then, Flint decided to honor Silver’s request that the divide between them not remain quite so wide. At the very least, Silver had somehow become his confidant and Flint didn’t have it in him to turn away from that relationship. Even if that was all it would be.

“Just so we’re clear, I didn’t mean to frighten you that night.”

Silver frowned. “Against my better judgement, you don’t frighten me. That’s not why I pulled away, I was—”

There was a knock at the cabin door. Flint, being quite ready to extricate himself from this conversation, took the opportunity to stand as soon as it came.

“Come in.”

Billy stuck his head in around the corner of the door before entering the rest of the way. Flint made his way out of the cabin after giving the bosun a clap on the shoulder.

Silver groaned, suddenly feeling a lot worse than he had just a moment ago. Billy had been the primary member of the crew to have come much too close to the truth with his inquiries. Billy approached.

“Had to check and make sure he hadn’t strangled you in your sleep or anything like that,” he said in lieu of a greeting while standing awkwardly by the desk.

“I’m not contagious. I don’t think. Am I?”

Billy shook his head and took only a few steps closer.

“What’s been going on between you and the captain?”

Well, that was about the most predictable question he could have asked. Silver chose to feign ignorance. “Considering he hasn’t tossed me over the side of the ship yet, I’d say we’re beginning to get along amicably.”

“Yes, but,” Billy paused looking around the room like he was afraid someone would be listening in. “The captain overreacted to you collapsing. Between that, and the fact that you’re not only sleeping in his cabin but his bed, well…”

“Well?”

“I’ve overheard some of the men talking quite seriously about whether or not you are letting him...do things. I know you want to have sway over him, but if this was your best idea, it’s a terrible one,” Billy shifted from one foot to the other.

“He’s not fucking me, Billy,” Silver said exasperatedly. “I’m lucky to be able to walk to the mess hall some days, being out a leg, and I’m sick. Do you really think that would make for the best time to seduce someone?”

Billy shrugged, though he did finally meet Silver eye to eye. “Oh,” he said. Silver didn’t like that oh. It sounded too much like an oh of revelation.

“Oh?” he echoed.

“Oh, you _want_ him to.”

Silver tried to keep his eye contact, but caved and closed his eyes to rub the bridge of his nose instead. “No, I don’t,” he said rather petulantly.

Billy gave him a disbelieving look. “I might not understand all the desires you and the rest of the crew get so caught up in, but I can recognize it. And I’ve seen men lose entire month’s wages over a pretty mouth.”

“Are you saying I’d be the fool and our captain the whore?” Silver raised an eyebrow and gave a faux scandalized expression.

Billy leveled him with a very serious stare. “I’m just saying, I don’t think you have the upper hand here. I’ve seen you searching for him on the deck on days where he wouldn’t even bother looking your way when you were speaking to him. Captain Flint doesn’t care about people and when he does they wind up dead. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re different from the rest of us.”

Silver looked away and toyed with the end of the sheet. “Thanks for the concern, now you can go tell the men I’m still breathing and there’s no need for mutiny or anything of the like. Go,” Silver shooed.

He was given one last disapproving look before Billy acquiesced. Silver was left alone again, and he found himself desperately wishing he weren’t, a thought he had never in his life had before. In a way, Silver knew Billy was right. He was flirting with danger and the outcome was likely to be less than favorable. The problem was, Silver knew now that he _was_ held in a different regard. It wasn’t just some whimsical thinking on his part. Flint showed him favoritism, kindness even, and Flint had taken his hand that night. Billy was wrong. Flint cared. He cared deeply once and had lost everything. He still cared. He just didn’t let anyone see it. Silver could see it. Silver knew when Flint failed to look his way it wasn’t out of disregard, but rather a desperate hope that he wouldn’t fall into Silver any further than he already had.

Still, Silver was a fool there was no doubt about it. Silver had been so caught up in learning about Flint and working his way into Flint’s head that he hadn’t realized Flint was sneaking into his heart. It was too late for Billy’s warning now, because Silver couldn’t stop this even if he wanted to and, unlike Flint, he had no desire to stop it at all. If Flint was planning to try and keep his head above water, well, Silver was going to drag him under and let them drown in this together. Let them both be the fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Silver decides that it is actually a perfect time for seduction. And a time to be forthright. 
> 
> Angst be gone! Happiness is coming.


	6. Chapter 6

It was midday, and Flint had finished making notes of their spendings at the small port town they had stopped in to avoid a storm. The men were in brighter spirits now that they had spent a couple of days with better food and softer company. Billy and Flint had been the only ones to forego running off to spend their earnings. Even Silver had vanished for most of the day. Flint wasn’t surprised, but somehow he was disappointed. **  
**

Billy perhaps should have done something better with his time, because he had been roaming the beach for hours and sending annoyed glares into Flint’s tent every few minutes. Maybe he wanted a raise, Flint hadn’t a clue.

Then, like thoughts of the man had summoned him, Silver appeared in the opening of the tent.

The man had regained his strength after the illness and had even taken extra care not to spend too much time on his leg. Flint hadn’t even needed to encourage Silver to remove the prosthesis lately. For all his efforts in finally taking care of himself, he looked better. More alive. Radiant even.

Their relationship was no longer strained. Silver seemed to have chosen to ignore the fact that Flint had desired him in favor of remaining friends, although Silver had also stopped asking about his past. It hadn’t felt like Silver was putting any distance between them, but rather moving his curiosity towards other parts of Flint’s mind. Silver focused on asking Flint what he planned to do about the pardons. He asked what Flint wanted to see Nassau become. He asked about where Flint would take up residence once he won the war. They were lofty dreams, but for some reason Flint had entertained every single question.

Presently, Silver’s gaze ran through the interior of the tent, as if checking to see if anyone else was inside. Then, he bit his lip and looked at Flint.

“Would you come with me?” He asked, shifting his weight to one leg, wincing, and shifting back.

Flint saw Billy stop his pacing and stare at the back of Silver’s head.

“I’m busy,” Flint said, while gesturing to his papers even though he had nothing left to do.

"You should really come see this," Silver insisted with an increasing tone of worry.

Flint sighed. He could just sit and write nonsense on a new blank sheet, but really, what was the point. He set a weight on his papers and followed behind Silver, who had a suspiciously light step.

Flint gave a look around at the temporary camp they had set up on the beach, and determined that the men couldn't do any real damage if they were to be left alone for a moment. He nodded to Billy, hoping he would understand that he was in charge now. Flint doubted he got the point.

"You couldn't simply tell me what has happened?" Flint grumbled once Silver began leading them into the overgrown forest that crowded the outside of the town.

"Visual aide is required," Silver supplied. And yes, there was certainly something odd about his tone. It was as if he were tamping down some other emotion and layering the helpless act over it.

Against better judgement, Flint continued. More than once he had to keep Silver from tripping over an errant root. And more than once he was hit with a branch snapping back into place as Silver hurried ahead. For some time, they wound back and forth through the undergrowth.

There was next to no patience left in him when he nearly collided into Silver's back. Flint looked up to give an earful to the quartermaster, but held his tongue as he found himself inches away from Silver's face, which was full of mirth and sky-blue eyes that were dancing from the light reflecting off the surface of the pool they were standing before.

Beyond Silver, was a scene of such tranquility that Flint nearly felt his breath stolen from him. They had entered a cavernous room with a rocky ceiling high above them. The ceiling was littered with openings that allowed the sunlight to stream down into the cerulean pool below, illuminating nearly the entire area. Roots from trees above hung down like tassels, while green and yellow parrots danced among the twisting wood. Their sounds were not cacophonous, but rather harmonious. The echoing drips of water accompanied the twittering like some kind of natural symphony.

Flint felt Silver's roughened fingers circle his wrist and pull him forward. He went without protest to the edge of a rock that was reaching just over the crystal clear pool.

"Look down," Silver said in unmasked awe.

Flint looked down. Below them, under the water, scattered across the sandy bed, were glittering cut stones of emerald and ruby that twinkled in his eyes. For a moment, he almost believed he was dreaming.

Then, the hand on his wrist left him and he looked over to see Silver sitting on the rock and hanging his feet over the edge. He was unbuckling his false leg and placing it to the side. Flint watched, still in utter awe of the place, as Silver undid the buttons of his shirt. Flint told himself then that he should look away, but he didn’t. When the shirt was carelessly tossed to the side, Silver held out his hand. For a moment, Flint thought Silver meant for them to actually hold hands, which caused the sting of rejection to hit him anew, but, of course, Silver instead simply pulled himself up to standing again.

There was a look on Silver’s face as if to say, ‘I told you it was something the eye had to see.’ That look shifted then to give way to a glint to the blue eyes that was from more than just the shimmering water and gems below. Silver pulled at the drawstrings of his trousers.

"What are you doing?" Flint had to ask at that point.

"I am going to swim in riches," he said with unbridled enthusiasm. "And I do hope you will join me because I haven't a clue if I can swim with only one leg."

Before Flint could say anything on the matter, Silver was cannonballing into the water entirely nude.

"Dammit," Flint cursed. And quickly made to remove his own clothes, save for the trousers, which were decidedly _not_ coming off.

Then, he dived.

The water washed over Flint in a cooling embrace that was welcome after having spent so much time in the midday sun. When he surfaced, Silver was already above the water himself and doing well. Better than that, the smile Silver had was such that Flint hadn't seen since the first day they met and Silver proclaimed himself a cook. Like he was on top of the world. Flint missed this. Genuinely, achingly he longed to be near the man who wasn't afraid to express himself. He would take it in any form Silver was willing to give it.

It was infectious.

"My God, is that an actual smile from the great Captain Flint?" Silver gasped in an overdramatic fashion.

"You should see the look on your face," Flint laughed. “You look happy,” he added with more affection than was appropriate.

Silver's smile thinned out to a simple upturn of the mouth, but he seemed very thoughtful in the moment. With some lapse in motor skills though, he nearly went under and grabbed at Flint's shoulder to help him stay afloat. The effort to tread water must have been slightly more difficult now than before. Flint meant to glance into the water just to observe how Silver was working his legs to compensate, but instead became suddenly aware that, yes, Silver was naked. Shameless. The hand on his shoulder suddenly felt like it was burning him.

"This place is certainly a memorable one," Silver said, causing Flint to startle as he looked back up to Silver's fond expression and then quickly averted his gaze to anything else. "But I would like to make it unforgettable."

"How so?" Flint managed to force out after several calming breaths.

The hand on his shoulder slid up slowly until it was cusping the back of his neck. Silver’s eyes flicked to Flint’s mouth so quickly that he nearly missed the look, but then Silver licked his sun-dried lips slowly, deliberately. Flint followed the motion until the pink tip disappeared back into Silver’s mouth. He could feel desire building up within him in waves. He felt something else too. That spark of hope had returned to him. He couldn’t possibly be reading this wrong.

Flint swallowed, audibly, and fought back the urge to instinctively lick his own lips. The distance between them seemed to shrink at an antagonizing pace, until he could feel Silver’s breath mingle with his own.

“We’ve been dancing around this for much too long,” Silver said with a seductive air to his words.

Flint’s eyes shot back up to Silver’s. They were hooded and wanting. Wanting in the same way Flint was wanting. But if Silver wasn’t certain, if Silver pulled away from him again...

"I want to fucking kiss you," Silver said, erasing any doubt. "I've wanted to for weeks now. I've wanted to even when I thought you would kill me for trying. Then, I made such a mistake when I pulled away bec—"

He never could just shut up, Flint thought as he surged forward, pressed his mouth to Silver's, and sought to tame that wild tongue.

Silver leaned into him until there was no space between them. The magnetic pull they had on each other had closed the final gap, and Flint wasn't sure he would ever have the strength to pull away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did that get a little Disney-esque? xD Ah, but finally, a kiss!
> 
> And I had to cut it there, because the next chapter is already the longest one yet. There be smut and emotions.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the smut. With an odd mix of emotions and probably too much talking. Enjoy~!

Certainly, this moment would be unforgettable.

John Silver, the irritable little shit, was in Flint’s arms, holding the side of Flint's face, and tracing a thumb just over his cheek as he deepened the kiss. Whatever attempt Silver had been making to swim, he had ceased. He was trusting Flint to keep them both above the water, but Flint wanted to do more with his hands and that meant they had to leave the water. He swam them backwards, never breaking their contact, until his back hit a rock and he scooted up just enough to let their upper bodies be open to the air.

Silver pulled back only barely. Flint opened his eyes that he hadn't even realized he had shut. Above him, Silver looked something sinful. His chest was wet and heaving. His pupils eclipsed the blue of his eyes in lust, a look that Flint was surprised to recognize on Silver, though he had dismissed it many times. Silver’s lips were reddened from the nips Flint had given them and they were parted as if wanting more. Flint had imagined this moment before, but never had his imagination conjured something of such beauty.

Flint reached up and pulled at the tie that was in Silver's hair. That, he had wanted to do for a very long time. The wet curls fell from their hold and draped over Silver's shoulders. Drops of water dripped from the ends and caught the sun like they were jewels. With the chorus of birds and halo of sunlight behind Silver, he almost seemed god like.

Flint wanted to ruin him.

Before he could act on that thought, Silver caught the hand Flint had left holding the tie and brought it in front of him. He laced their fingers. An act Flint had steeled himself against numerous times. Then, Silver brought the back of Flint's hand to his lips and left a gentle kiss.

Whatever imaginings Flint had had about Silver, this would have never crossed his mind. He expected Silver chase after pleasure as quickly as possible, as he knew the man was hedonistic in his ways. This felt something tender.

Silver grinned, like he had won some kind of prize. Then, Flint found himself unable to retaliate once again, because Silver dropped back on his knees and rolled his hips slowly over Flint's obvious desire sending a shudder through them both. He let their twined hands fall to the rock and Silver let out a delicious low groan.

Flint bit into his lower lip as Silver made the same motion a second time. He glanced down between them, where Silver sat unclothed and excited. No doubt Silver could feel his reaction to the light friction. It had been years since Flint engaged in anything of this nature.

The hand Silver had on his cheek moved down to pull his lip from between his teeth.

"No one will hear," Silver said. "No one but me, and I very much want to hear you."

Flint turned his head to the side, trying to avoid getting caught up in Silver's game, in his eyes.

"Please?" Silver asked somewhere between a plea and a moan. And fuck it all.

"Fuck," Flint shot out before he could swallow the word.

The glance Flint stole showed an entirely too pleased Silver. That was enough of him thinking he had the upper hand here. Flint moved his hand from Silver's waist and ran his fingers over each bump of his spine before sinking them into his long dark locks. Then he pulled and used their linked hands to flip Silver onto his back, taking full advantage of Silver's lack of balance no thanks to his left leg. Silver looked surprised only for a moment.

"Of all the things I imagined being more difficult for me now, this hadn't crossed my mind."

"Have you done this before?"

Silver ran a hand over Flint's jawline, scratching his fingers through his trimmed beard.

"I'm not a virgin maiden," Silver laughed and received an eye roll in return. "With a man? Yes, I have. Though mostly out of necessity and not often willingly."

Flint scowled at that. “Are you willing?”

“No,” Silver said softly, which nearly had Flint moving away, but then he slid his hand up to the back of Flint’s neck and pulled him close. His warm breath sinfully kissed Flint’s ear as he whispered, “I’m wanting.”

They crashed together again like waves breaking on a rocky shore. Flint could feel the heat radiating off of Silver in the cool cavern. Their kisses were no longer a cautious discovery, but rather a deep exploration and a battle of dominance. Silver, always being of a quicker tongue, managed to lead.

Flint felt Silver's hand slide down his back, tracing the raised scars scattered here and there. With Silver's excellent ability of recall, Flint could almost imagine him mapping out Flint's body so that he could recreate it from memory.

They drew soft hums from one another before finally pulling apart to take in huffs of air. Already, Flint could tell who had the better stamina between them. He smirked. Then moved down to nip at Silver's bared neck. He trailed kisses down to his collar bone and let his tongue taste the salty sweat gathering there. For a man who claimed to dislike the ocean, it seemed the ocean had seeped into his every pore. Flint continued his descent, even as Silver drew more vocal with words of praise and disbelief that this was happening.

When, Flint stopped at Silver's left hip where the waterline began, he untangled their hands and received a groan of frustration. Flint slid his hand into the water and over Silver's thigh. He lifted it just out of the water and brought his lips to the inner muscles which had tensed. He only went a few inches lower before Silver grasped at his hand.

"Don't," he requested.

Flint paused, and looked up to Silver's grimace.

"Why?"

Silver took a steadying breath and tried to pull Flint back up, but Flint remained like stone. Silver was uncomfortable, which hadn't been his intention in the least, but now Flint was determined to find his way past this wall in the way Silver had made it past so many of his.

Flint moved his fingers a little lower.

"It's not...it's unattractive. Hardly the time for that, wouldn't you say?"

Flint gave him the kind of smile he gave when going to war and pressed his lips to Silver's knee, while keeping his eyes firmly trained on Silver's face. The scar tissue began just below here, still pink and made slightly raw by Silver's refusal to wear bandages this day.

"Are my scars unattractive?" Flint asked him.

Silver gaze moved to Flint's shoulders and chest and the myriad of marks there.

"Quite the opposite, but that's not the point."

"My point," Flint cut in, "is that the scars you see are from men I have fought and men I have killed. Every scar is a reminder that I am the monster the crown fears. Your scar," Flint moved his hand away from Silver's and, in one swift movement, he cupped the end of Silver's leg and trained his eyes on the stump. Silver gasped, partly from real pain, partly from an odd sense of pleasure. Flint let his voice fall deep and reverent. "Your scar is a reminder that you are loyal to this crew now, that you would give up so much to keep them safe. It's the mark of a good man. You should carry no shame from that."

"Know no shame," Silver whispered.

Thomas' words hung in the air between them for a long moment, so charged that it felt as if they could brew a storm of their own. Deep within him, Flint could feel something let go. It had his throat feeling raw and his heart feeling lighter than it had in over a decade. It was frightening and awe inspiring all at once. In that moment, Flint knew Silver owned him. Heart, mind, body, soul, whatever uncontrollable forces worked to make two people come together, Silver had won.

When a tear escaped the corner of Silver's eye, the torrent began.

In a frenzy, Flint kissed the very end of Silver's leg and Silver's hands tugged at the cord of Flint's trousers and slid the wet fabric down to his knees, where Flint kicked it off not even caring that it would float away in the pool.

Their hands linked again and Flint pinned them just above Silver's head. The kiss that followed was bruising and entirely uncoordinated. Flint forced them higher up on the rock, scraping their knuckles and Silver's back against the abrasive surface, which pulled a gasp from Silver as soon as Flint's mouth stopped swallowing the sounds.

Silver rocked his hips up and Flint met him halfway, pushing Silver down hard. Their first unclothed touch reminded Flint of so many things he had imagined he would never feel again.

"Fuck," he shouted.

Silver's hands gripped his tighter. They slowed the frantic actions to a steady slide against flesh and Flint took the moment to look at his prize, which he dared to think might be worth more to him than all the gems behind them.

Silver was barely keeping his eyes opened and his lashes brushed his reddened cheeks every time Flint pushed forward. His hair was spread around him making Flint want to drag his fingers through it and pull. When Silver realized he was being watched, he smiled just barely with such a serene gaze.

Between hums and aborted words, Silver spoke softly, "This, was not...not at ah...at all what I expected from you."

"What did you expect?" Flint asked not even attempting to mask the shaking of his voice.

"Mm, rougher. Angry. Plundering. I'm glad. To be proven wrong."

Flint kissed him again. So softly that they ended up simply breathing in each other's gasps as their lips barely brushed after each thrust.

"I do hope you plan on fucking me...soon," Silver said breathlessly against his lips.

Flint stilled and let his forehead fall to Silver's. He groaned in frustration, "We'd need some items for that and I didn't exactly come prepared."

"Lubricant? Condoms? Good thing I stopped at the whorehouse before dragging you here. I happen to have everything we need in my shirt pockets," that shit eating grin took over Silver's features and he pushed Flint away from him. "Go fetch it will you? The rest of our stuff too if you don't mind."

"You planned this?" Flint asked in disbelief.

Silver grinned cheekily. "We had a few misunderstandings lately and this time I had every intention of making myself explicitly clear."

Flint quirked his mouth and shook his head.

"You shouldn't underestimate me, James. Much like yourself, I'm very good at getting what I want. I also happen to know we work very well together and we should use that knowledge to work together and get your cock in me."

Flint stood up to go get the items. Their fingers remained entwined until the length of their arms no longer allowed the touch. Silver dropped his hand to his lap and gave a small amount of pressure to his weeping cock. Honestly, he was ridiculously on edge.

Admiring Flint's ass as he walked away did nothing to help. Even naked, the man moved like a goddamn king. When he returned, however, that air of authority had vanished seeing as his arms were full of clothes, a leg, and the bottle he had already taken from Silver's shirt.

He laid the items a small distance from them, and then settled himself back atop Silver. This time rather than letting the whole length of their bodies meet, he simply sat on Silver's lap.

Flint tipped the bottle he was still holding back and forth. "I'm afraid our wants don't align. My sights are set on that cock," he tapped just the tip of Silver's head and said 'cock' like the word didn't quite sit right in his mouth, "being in me."

Silver's eyes widened momentarily and he felt goosebumps rise on his skin in sheer anticipation. "You're serious?"

"Unless you don't want—"

Silver grabbed for the bottle. "No, no, no. There is a lot of want. I just didn't ever think," he paused and started again. "You're a very surprising person." He pulled open the glass cork and paused again. "I may have lied to you. I haven't done anything quite like this before."

Flint seemed almost sheepish, a look Silver would have never expected to see. "What, not a dirty sodomite?"

He said it like a joke, but Silver knew those words must have been said to Flint with much vitriol back in London. Flint had mentioned once that he could have been hanged for such a thing.

Silver joked back, in earnest. "Awful, isn't it? I've tried so many things, how did I ever miss out on this? You'll help me remedy that? Yes?"

Flint still looked unsure, like Silver wanting this was such an unbelievable thing for him. Silver felt such fondness for this unmasked display of worries and doubts. Here they were, both feared pirates, the most powerful men on the seas, and when alone together they were self-deprecating, and barely holding themselves together, but still trying to help heal the other. There were many wounds to tend to and Silver wanted nothing more than to care for them all.

"I just never had the occasion before. Being such a pretty face, as you no doubt have noticed, I always found myself on the receiving end. Some unspoken rule of how things were supposed to be I had assumed."

Flint shook his head and took his hands to Silver's, helping him pour the oily liquid onto his fingers, before setting the bottle aside. "Our only limitations are those we make for ourselves. We aren't bound to any of their rules."

“Fuck the whole damn world,” Silver smirked and brought his oil-slicked fingers behind Flint and pressed right where Flint wanted him to. Flint keened. “Fuck their laws,” Silver slipped his index finger into him drawing out a gasp. “Fuck their sins,” Silver felt nails dig into his chest and saw pleasure spread across Flint’s face. “Fuck them, because I am going to fuck you and I’m going to fucking love it.”

When Flint insisted on a second finger, Silver obliged and watched Flint’s muscles flex as he steadied himself. Silver’s cock gave an interested twitch, as if he could feel Flint’s pleasure coursing through his own veins. Then, Flint moved against his lap and against Silver’s hand, and that pleasure was most definitely his own. He grabbed at Flint’s thigh, digging his nails into the flesh, because if Flint was going to be marking him, Silver was damn sure going to return the favor.

Flint leaned down over him and Silver pulled up, meeting him again in a heated kiss unlike any he had shared with anyone before. It was a kiss filled with all the emotions Silver wanted to convey to Flint, and had only ever had for this one man. Unprompted, he spread his fingers, feeling Flint shaking above him as he let a third digit slot alongside the others. Flint’s cock left a long wet streak along Silver’s the next pass they made against each other, drawing a long pleasured sound from the both of them.

Flint turned his head to the side, away from the kiss. He was breathing heavily and his lips were glistening and Silver just wanted more. He was so close to unraveling every last bit of Captain Flint. To _knowing_ him. The want was dizzying.

“Get in me,” Flint grunted out and slid the condom over Silver’s cock shocking another profanity from Silver at the brief feeling of Flint’s rough fingertips.

They had to do this again, they had to do this a thousand different ways, because sharing this with Flint just this one time and never again would surely kill Silver. But right now, there was an opportunity spread before him and Silver was going to take it.

He pulled his fingers away and gripped onto Flint’s other thigh. Flint wasted absolutely no time in pouring a generous amount of the oil onto Silver’s length and giving one hard pump, before tossing the bottle at the pile of clothing. Silver didn’t have time to bemoan the expenses lost as the bottle tipped, pouring the rest of its contents into the pool because Flint sank onto him and cut all thoughts short.  

“Oh, fuck,” Silver shouted and heard his voice echo through the cavern.

“Make yourself useful and move,” Flint ordered.

Who could deny this man? Silver knew he couldn’t. Not anymore.

With as much leverage as he could manage, he pushed up into Flint’s heat and Flint met him. Always meeting halfway. This was going to be ingrained into his memory. The sounds of their skin meeting, the dull pain from Flint’s grip on him, the way Flint’s skin glistened, and the way Flint kept his eyes opened and fixated on Silver. The way, after having put each other back together, they were going to shake each other apart. All of it was heart pounding and earth shattering.

Much sooner than he would have liked, Silver found his breath stuttering as he tried to hold onto the pleasure for just a while longer. To make this moment last. Wishing it would never end.

“Say my name,” Silver found himself demanding, because if there was one last thing he needed, it was to know that Flint was seeing him and no one else. “Please, say my name.”

All it took was the whispered, “John,” that followed, and Silver was gone.

When they fell apart, they fell apart together. Flint stroking himself and Silver pumping into him one last time. A ship crashing into the siren’s shore. Flint had wrecked him.

Flint sank forward, resting his chest on Silver’s. Automatically, Silver wrapped his arms around the man. Silver didn’t know if he could pick up the pieces after losing this. God, he hoped he didn’t have to lose this.

“I find men are powerless to hold onto their secrets after being so thoroughly pleasured,” he said softly.

Flint rolled off him. The loss of his warmth brought in a wash of cold air. Silver was a fool to think this man didn’t frighten him. Right now, he was terrified of whatever would come next. Flint, however, had not immediately taken his leave as had been Silver’s worst fear.

Flint took his shirt, dipped it in the water, and brought it to the mess on Silver’s stomach. Silver’s heart fluttered.

“You’re still curious?” Flint asked.

“I think you could relate to me your entire life’s story and it still wouldn’t be enough,” Silver took a breath. He owed Flint at least one confession. “The future is what I’m most wondering about. I couldn’t walk away and feel satisfied with this memory alone. This feels like more than just curiosity or lust,” Flint paused the clean up and met Silver’s eyes. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Flint searched his face and then held his gaze for what seemed like entire minutes. Silver wished his could read Flint’s thoughts, just to know if he felt this too. If his pulse became a little faster when they looked at one another. If he wanted to see Silver smile as much as Silver wished to see Flint smile. He needed to know that he wasn’t alone.

Then, Flint smiled. It was small, but it reached his eyes and it was sure, and it was beautiful. Flint kissed him, just a quick peck on the lips, but Silver could feel the meaning in his heart.

“You always have been a goddamn thief, John.”

Silver too, smiled, feeling like he could drift away in the utter bliss that filled him.

Together then. They would drown in this together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final full chapter. A super short epilogue will be posted in just a bit to tie everything up.


	8. Epilogue

Silver was in the cabin, moving his chest of belongings closer to the bed, for convenience sake, when he saw the book on the ledge. He had left it there some time ago and had all but forgotten it. Silver took _Meditations_ in both hands and walked it slowly over to the bookshelf. Dust had gathered on the one empty space. He ran a hand over the cover.

Quietly, he spoke as if he were among old friends. “He can be difficult to understand at times, but I’m glad to have learned a bit about your James. I’m not sure I could have done it quite so easily without your help. Though I have to say, I’m glad he doesn’t need this memento often any longer. I think he might have finally taken your lesson to heart as well. I happened to have a jeweler fashion he and I a pair of rings. Bold, I know,” Silver spun the ring on his own finger. Gold from the Urca fashioned into an ornate band to hold a ruby found at the bottom of a pool in their own personal paradise. “He wears it. In any case, I suppose this all boils down to a thank you. So, thank you, Thomas and Miranda. I’ll be keeping him until it’s time for you to see him again.”

Silver slid the book back into its place and gave one last caress down the spine.

The shouts of “we’re home” filled his ears as he left the cabin and stepped out onto the deck. Flint stood tall and commanding at the front of the ship and stared out over the whole of Nassau. Though Silver had promised himself once that he never would, Silver believed in this man. He believed in his vision that one day Nassau would be a place of freedom and peace and Silver had every intention of being next to Flint on that day.

Silver slid into the space beside him and, in an almost imperceptible act of intimacy, Silver let his pinky finger rest over Flint’s. “Welcome home, James.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this is the first fic I've written in nearly five years. I've probably finished a grand total of three fics in my life too. So this is an accomplishment. Hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> Stay tuned for my next fic, Ithaca, which I plan to post the first chapter of on Thursday. It'll be Silverflint and Flint/Hamiltons. Lots more fluff in it than in this one for sure. ^.^


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